


Blue Curtain

by Typey



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typey/pseuds/Typey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small bed isn't always a bad thing. </p>
<p>A one-shot that does nothing to enhance the greater understanding of these two complex characters and in which the only exploration of either of them takes place with hands and tongues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Curtain

**Author's Note:**

> Because sometimes I'm told to write porn.

Myka closed her eyes tighter against unexpected early morning light and turned her head away from the source. A window directly above the center of a twin-size bed she was sharing with her wife. A window that let in far more sunlight than the one in their own bedroom. A window with an overlong blue curtain that had gotten trapped between the comforter and the wall at some point during the night, leaving enough room for daytime to intrude on what Myka had hoped would be a long, quiet start to a day that had no obligations, no responsibilities, for either of them until they left to drive back to South Dakota, neutralized artifact safely stored.

Nuzzling gently into unfairly smooth strands of hair, Myka pressed a brief kiss to her wife’s forehead. The twin bed in a single-room cabin at a rustic inn wasn’t luxurious, but a few detours on their trip had left them, later than they’d anticipated still being in pursuit of their quarry, looking for anywhere other than their car to lie down for a few hours, and the waiter at the diner where they stopped to share a midnight breakfast and savor a couple of hot teas had pointed them toward the inn.

The cabin was small, and as soon as Helena had called Artie to report their success and Myka had completed a brief security check of their room, the women had stripped out of most of their clothes — bumping elbows and knees more than once — and fallen into bed, expecting exhaustion from their snag to have dropped them immediately into sleep. 

But, the bed providing very few options, they had found themselves in the familiar position of Helena tucked up against Myka’s right side, their breathing matched and fingers entwined, and the size of the bed and the late hour had ceased to matter. Helena had drawn her right hand out of Myka’s grasp to sneak fingers under the hem of the white tank top her wife wore to bed. The slight chill of Helena’s hand on Myka’s warm skin had caused her to shiver, which in turn had caused Helena to purr delightedly.

Smiling indulgently, Myka had responded by pulling Helena on top of her, trapping the offending hand between their bodies and leaving Helena’s mouth hovering just above Myka’s. Several heartbeats pounded in unison before Helena had leaned down to kiss Myka. What Myka was sure had been intended as a playful riposte to her own maneuver had turned heated the moment their tongues slid against each other.

Helena’s free hand had cupped the side of Myka’s neck as she nipped lightly at Helena’s lower lip and then captured it demandingly, not relinquishing it even through Helena’s deep moans and her fingers’ insistent pressure on the underside of Myka’s jaw. Myka had deepened the kiss again, not allowing Helena to catch her breath; the heaving chest rocking against her own and the hand still splayed across her skin had Myka searching for somewhere to grab Helena, to shift her wife where she needed her.

She had slid her hands back from the sides of Helena’s hips to the crease at the top of her thighs. In the gap left between them as Myka had settled their lower bodies together, Helena had drawn her fingers up from Myka’s navel to palm her left breast. Though their breathing, in gasps and groans and half-verbalized pleas for more, no longer matched, the squeezing, rolling, sweeping of hands on each other’s body still had. Helena had let go of Myka’s neck to find her other breast, and Myka had arched up hard into her wife’s touch. The long line of Myka’s throat, head thrown back against the mattress and sternum rising toward Helena above her, had lured Helena’s mouth in a series of bruising kisses and long, sensual licks across skin flushed with racing blood and quivering with desire.

Myka could only continue the semi-rhythmic caress of Helena’s ass and lithe, strong legs as Helena had made quick work of the tank top. Myka remembered the whispered “beautiful” from Helena as she had paused to gaze at her flushed and blushing wife half-naked below her; Myka would always remember that expression of devotion immediately before Helena had dropped her head to Myka’s right nipple to take it into her mouth and paint rough strokes of her tongue against it and roll it between her lips.

Myka’s moan had reverberated down to her core, and a rush of wetness made her desperate for more contact with Helena. Finding Helena’s right hand with her own left, Myka had guided her wife to the waistband of her panties. As Helena had slipped deft fingers down from Myka’s hipbone to the top of her slit — and gave up the one well-loved nipple for Myka’s other, tight and peaked and straining for the warm, wet heat of Helena’s mouth — Myka had clutched and shoved rather less artfully at Helena’s own panties until they were flung somewhere across the room.

Helena had waited — hand poised, tongue continuing its not-quite-random path around and over Myka’s breast — more patiently than Myka could have managed if their positions had been reversed for Myka’s fingers to slide into the wetness waiting for her between Helena’s legs. Myka’s first moves to stroke all the way from clit to opening and back, spreading through folds and running along all the nerves that made Helena pant in anticipation of delicious pressure circling around her clit and the delving thrust of fingers inside her, had been countered by Helena palming Myka firmly, teasing her opening with alternating pressure from each finger.

When Myka had regained her breath from the initial onslaught of sensation, she plunged two fingers into Helena, hooking them and using her right hand on Helena’s hip to pull her down onto the back of the hand pressed between Myka’s legs.

In need of air, Helena had lifted her head off of Myka, arching her back and driving their hips together. Finding the rhythm that had their bodies rocking against each other, free hands had gripped where they could, leaving fingerprints and crescent-moon indentations of short nails along a ribcage or the curve of an ass.

Helena had bitten down on her lower lip, and her muscles had strained with the pace she and Myka had given each other. Myka’s mouth had fallen open just as the walls around Helena’s fingers began their final dance toward orgasm. Helena had moaned “beautiful” that time as Myka had come undone and brought Helena with her.

Sighing deeply as the memory of the previous night’s interlude washed over her, Myka kissed Helena’s forehead one more time before opening her eyes. Helena’s eyes, deep brown and knowing, looked back at her, and a slightly chilled hand slipped from on top of the comforter to alight underneath on Myka’s warm, naked body.


End file.
